


The Calderdale Legacy

by gowerstreet



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 1910, A distinct lack of period-typical homophobia, Acceptance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enduring love, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Love, Loyalty, M/M, Minor Character Death, Music as a catalyst, Ralph Vaughan Williams, The Power Of Love, The Three Choirs Festival Gloucester, Watson is a good friend, emotional closure, inspired by a real concert, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gowerstreet/pseuds/gowerstreet
Summary: September 1910Holmes returns to Baker Street after visiting Lestrade to find an empty house and a mysterious telegram addressed to Watson on the deskDear Dr WatsonCaldie fading STOP Asking for you STOP Please come - not much time left STOP The Larches Barton Crescent Gloucester STOPEGCHolmes cannot help but  follow where Watson leads, even when it takes them far from London





	The Calderdale Legacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milverton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milverton/gifts).



> This was a challenge to write, but a worthy one. I hope I did the prompt justice.   
> Many thanks to my friends online who listened to me flap and witter about this. You are angels, every last one of you.

September 1910  
For all of his protestations to the outside world, Holmes was not a closed book to everyone. Her merely preferred to keep the most private pages of his life tightly closed.

Watson was the same, sharing only fragments of the life that he had known before moving to 221b. And Holmes ,for all of his deductive skills, knew enough not to press on the wounds of the past. Both of them,were men of the world who had spent decades in other existences before their lives collided. Each chose to brush over the other’s past, unless it came into direct and relevant reference.

That said, the day that Holmes came back to a house entirely bereft of human presence set him somewhat off kilter. The absence of Mrs Hudson was not something to be feared; the good lady often sallied forth on domestic business. But to find their rooms without Watson added a more sinister atmosphere to it all.

Holmes did his best to quell his rising unease when he noticed that Watson’s best suit and shirts were missing from his wardrobe, as was his Gladstone bag. The patterns of dust betrayed where his shaving kit had previously rested, and his chequebook was missing from the secret drawer in the bureau.

A folded sheet of paper half hidden by the desk blotter caught his eye. A telegram, which had clearly arrived that morning.

Dear Dr Watson  
Caldie fading STOP Asking for you STOP Please come - not much time left STOP The Larches Barton Crescent Gloucester STOP

EGC  
\--  
Holmes had done many foolish things in this time, but calling in on Lestrade just when Watson must have received this had to have been one of his greatest mistakes. There was little time to lose.

Mrs Hudson bustled through the front door just as Holmes slammed the door their rooms. She looked up in surprise at the noise. “Off out, are we?”  
“Regretfully, yes. I may be back this evening, or it may take some days. Please tell all callers that I will be unavailable for the foreseeable future.”

“And what of Doctor Watson?”  
Holmes straightened the lining of his coat. “He has gone on ahead.”  
“Is this to do with that telegram ?”  
He slid past her in the hallway and grabbed his cane. “I am not at liberty to say.”  
“Because he chose not to share it with you?”  
Holmes stilled, a vicious retort on his tongue. He forced a smile onto his face. “All men have their secrets, but it is the truth which is paramount. Good day.”  
\--  
Watson steeled himself as the cab approached The Larches , the last house in a recently erected but elegant street. He had thrown a bag together and caught the next train from Paddington, hurling himself through the dallying crowds to secure his seat. He regretted not leaving Holmes a coherent message as to the reason for his flight, hoping that he would find the telegram. Whilst they were quite capable of surviving independently, leaving London without Holmes felt like a betrayal.  
The gentle jolt of the cab and the soft West Country burr of the cabbie’s voice brought Watson back into the immediate, and what would be waiting at journey’s end. He paid the man, his bag held in a white-knuckled hand.  
He was admitted by a pinch – faced maid barely out of her teens. Her eyes were rimmed red. "Through here, sir." .Watson nodded in acknowledgement.  
Soft footsteps approached down the passage. ”Thank you Annie. Please take Dr Watson’s coat and hat.”  
Evangeline Calderdale will still in many ways the same beauty she had been at twenty three. Age had defined rather than diminished her; the silver strands which were sprinkled through the blonder hair only added to her magic. Watson took her hands in his. "My dear Eva. How are you doing?"  
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, but her voice remained steady. " I am as well as can be expected. Alastair was given permission to come home, and has been a perfect gentleman as any sixteen-year-old can be."  
"He is a credit to you both."  
"Come, I’ll take you through to Caldie. He's been waiting foryou."  
Andrew Calderdale, Caldie to all who loved him, was sitting up in the bed set up in the drawing room so that he could look out onto the garden and feel the breeze on his face. The former giant of Barts rugby team had shrunk in on himself, but the fire in his eyes was just the same. "John!" He exclaimed from a scratchy throat. "How's London treating you?"  
"Not so bad, old thing." Caldie gave him the type of glance which had sent medical students scurrying away in fear. "You're six months my senior, I'll have you remember." But then the broad smile returned. "Come here, you fool. Nothing catching about all this."  
Watson approached the bed. Caldie held out his arms. "I need shifting up on my pillows, and I'm far too much of a weight for Eva, even now."  
"Always were one for close contact." Watson circled him with his arms and waited for Caldie to do the same. It had been thirty years since they had been so close, and yet each remembered the touch of the other. Watson felt rather than saw the tears bloom across Caldie's skin and found it hard to stop his own. "Shh, now, dear one. I’m here."  
"Don't leave…"  
"I won't, I promise.” He laid him back on the pillows, settling the bedclothes more closely so as to protect him from the cold.  
"It's a great relief that you’re here, if only for a little while. Eva is such a strong woman, and Alastair such a good boy, but they shouldn't have to do this alone."  
"I will stay here for as long as they wish me to."  
"But what of London? And of your esteemed Holmes?"  
"They will both survive without me." But how would I survive without them?  
"We've enjoyed reading the counts of your cases some of them seem so fantastical that I scarcely believe they would do."  
Watson smiled in spite of himself, and took a seat on the edge the bed. "And those are just the ones whose details I have been permitted to share. Fancy hearing one which could not be published…?"  
"Oh, please…"  
"What about The Talking Cat of Pharaoh Square…?" Watson began the story, explaining every twist and turn of the incredible case. Caldie listened avidly, laughing and gasping in turn. But gradually his reactions slowed in volume and frequency. Watson moved closer still and took up one hand.  
Caldie’s fingers entwined with his. "My dear, dear man," he whispered. "It lifts my heart know that you stride through this world next to your beloved Holmes. I simply could not have borne this knowing that you would be alone." He coughed , then swallowed. "Does he love you as you love him?" Watson nodded. "To be loved by you is to be blessed above all men."  
Caldie's eyes fluttered and his breath shallowed.  
"Should I call Eva?"  
"No. We said all that we needed to each other and also to Alastair, in all the years we had together. The very fact I found the trust to love another soul is down to how you showed me such passion and affection. Your kindness for a rough, awkward lad on his first day of lectures changed me for the better, and left me open to the love of others."  
They regarded each other with the truth of their affection; no more words were needed. Caldie closed his eyes and took one last, slight breath, his lips curving into the softest of smiles.  
Watson lifted the cooling fingers to his mouth and kissed them for the last time. “May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

He remained on the bed, staring at Caldie, as the tears blurred his vision. Behind him, a door opened and closed, then Eva’s hand was on his shoulder.  
“I am so glad you reached him in time. He was desperate to see you, once we knew how little time remained..”  
Watson turned, disbelieving. “But you were his wife. He should have asked for you, not me.”  
Eva smiled. “Caldie and I kept no secrets from each other. He told me long ago how he loved you. And how those months together shaped him into the type of man he wanted to be - kind, gentle, generous and freely compassionate. You uncovered those qualities in him, and in doing so, gave him the chance to be a better man than the manipulative thug who sired him. Without you, this marriage would never have been. I have twenty-five years of memories and the joy of a growing son to sustain me.” Her words stalled against the growing lump in her throat. “Come, please take some tea. ..”  
\---  
Watson allowed himself to be led into the sitting room and mutely accepted a cup. He barely remembered drinking it, only the mechanics of picking up and setting down such intricate china.  
He remembered himself in a while, and set down his cup. “Where is Alastair today?”  
“I sent him to the Cathedral- he is singing in the Dream of Gerontius as a member of the Festival choir. He sat up half the night with Caldie, allowing me to rest. I heard them talking softly right into the small hours. The school would have allowed him to stay here, but I sent him on today, knowing how much comfort he would find in his music. He has a fine tenor voice.”  
“ Just like his father.”  
Eva nodded. “And he can make even the most humble piano sound like the greatest instrument ever created. He dreams of attending the Royal Academy in London, once his school days are done.”  
The door opened. “Sorry to disturb you, Ma’am, but this was just arrived.” She indicated a small sealed envelope on her tray.  
“Thank you. Annie. Did you see the person who delivered it?"  
“Yes Ma’am. A tall man in a fine black coat, who said he didn’t wish to intrude on the household.”  
“Very well. Thank you.” Eva took the envelope which was addressed to her and opened it.

“Dear Mrs Calderdale  
Please accept my apologies for intruding at this most difficult time. I would be most grateful you could inform Dr Watson that I have taken a room at the Royal Gloucester Hotel in the event that I am able to offer any assistance.  
Yours with the deepest sincerity  
W S S Holmes

Eva looked directly into Watson’s eyes.“Did you know he was coming?”  
“No. I left the moment your telegram arrived, leaving only the barest clue where I had gone, which I regretted as soon as the train left Paddington.”  
“He acts with the concern of the most devoted spouse.”  
“In his own way, as much as he can be, yes. Just as I am to him, out of the public view.”  
Eva put the note back in its envelope and passed it to Watson. “Then he belongs here with you. There is space and privacy for you both. Please ask him to come.”  
“Oh, Eva, we could not impose ourselves on you like that..”  
“It would not be an imposition - it is a plea for company. This house needs to be filled with voices and light and music, else the dread of losing Caldie will subsume me as the very instant when I will be expected to show my face in public.” She looked towards the window, as if hoping to catch a glance of Holmes on the street.  
“But what of Alastair? “ asked Watson. “ How would he view our presence?”  
“He wishes only for me to be as happy as I can be, just as his father does- did.” The genteel strength which had carried Eva through to this point shattered. Her grief began as a whimper, then developed into a howl.  
Annie burst into the room, all decorum lost. Watson beckoned her over. “Is there a telephone in the house?”  
“Yes, sir. Just by the stairs.”  
“Do you know how to use it?”  
“Yes, sir. Mr Calderdale showed me.”  
“Excellent. Please could you contact the Royal Gloucester Hotel and leave a message for Mr Holmes to come at once. Do you understand?”  
“Yes ,sir.”  
“Then we will need you to get a message to Master Alastair at the Cathedral, asking him to come home forthwith.”  
“Yes Sir, “ She looked at her mistress with some consternation. “We’ve lost him, haven’t we?”  
Watson sighed. “Yes. Mr Calderdale died peacefully a little while ago.”  
Eva’s crying lessened as she looked up. “Mr Holmes and Dr Watson will be staying with us for a few days in the upper guest room.”  
“But the beds are bare, Ma’am. I sent the sheets to the laundry yesterday.”  
“Annie, Mr Holmes and I may be of the less domestic sex, but we are both able to clothe a bed appropriately. We will be able to sort out for ourselves, providing that you indicate the location of suitable supplies.”  
Annie looked at Eva until she nodded in agreement. “That will be most kind of you. Annie already has so much to do.”  
“Thank you ma’am.” She left the room in a hurry. Her calm voice could then be heard on the telephone, passing on Watson’s message with some confidence.  
Watson offered his handkerchief to Eva. “Please allow us to assist in any way possible.”  
“I will. Alastair will benefit greatly from your company.”  
“I barely know him. He was just a toddling cherub when you sailed for Canada.”  
“That will make no difference, We’ve brought him up on stories of you.”  
“What does he know of my connection with Caldie?”  
“As much of the truth that could be shared. That you were at medical school together and remained lifelong friends, despite the miles between you.”  
Before Watson could reply, he spotted a beloved figure paying off a cabbie and striding towards the front door of The Larches. In a moment , he was standing in the hallway in coat and hat, a discreet bag at his feet.  
Holmes took Eva’s outstretched hand and bowed over it. “Mrs Calderdale, I am most sorry to have met you under such circumstances. Please accept my deepest condolences.”  
“Thank you, Mr Holmes. Please excuse me, as I have some telephone calls to make. If you would like to go into the sitting room, Dr Watson is waiting for you.” She indicated the door then headed for the door.  
The Watson he found standing by the fireplace appeared years older than the man with whom he had shared the breakfast table earlier in the day. The reality of Caldie’s loss was bearing down on him. Holmes crossed the room and enfolded him in his arms before he sagged under the weight of it all.  
“Oh my dear, sweet man,” he murmured into Watson’s hair. ”Did you arrive in time?” Watson was beyond speech, but managed a nod of his head. “Then you will have done your part.” His hands rubbed circles into Watson’s back, as though easing the pain from his system.  
The tears subsided gradually.  
“If I could do nothing to cure him, at least I could ease his mind. I was with him at the end, which came quietly and without pain.” Watson took in a lungful of air. “I asked if he wanted his wife, but he said that it was me whom he needed.”  
“And the fact that you came proved the importance of your connection. Come. Sit down.”  
Their ankles pressed against each other. Holmes filled a clean cup for himself , then refilled Watson’s. “Mrs Calderdale is a remarkable individual.”  
“Yes. Other women might have taken umbrage with any mention of the previous lives of their husbands. But she understood the power of Caldie’s affection. His death will hit her hard, as it will Alastair, I am sure, but he is by all reports a fine boy, Musical rather than medical, with sights on a professional career if the opportunity presents.”  
Where is he now?”  
“Rehearsing for a concert tonight at the cathedral. He is expected home imminently.”  
There was movement in the hall. Soft voices and the opening of the front door. Holmes raised a brow in query.  
“Would you stay?”  
Holmes laid a hand on his arm. “Whatever you need is yours - and yours alone.”

Alastair Calderdale, as fair as his mother, and as tall as his father, stood in the doorway of the drawing room, a statue of compressed emotion. He turned as Watson approached, his face shiny with tears.  
”Dr Watson. Thank you for coming.”  
“It was my honour and duty to do so. My condolences, Alastair.”  
“Thank you.” for all his physique and apparent maturity, Watson could plainly see the child in him, battling with the reality of what he saw. “The house feels so empty without him.”  
“ It will.”  
There was a swish of skirts behind them. Watson stood aside to let Eva reach her son, and turned away as they embraced. He returned to the sitting room.

\--  
The house became a focal point for visitors as it afternoon drew on. News of Caldie's death travelled quickly through the community. By the time they set down an early supper, there was a stack of cards waiting for reply, however brief, a task that would wait until morning. Alastair and Eva urged each other to eat even a little before he excused himself to change for the concept. No doubt there would be comments made about him attending this father's death and the few hours before, but Eva had stood her ground against the disapproval of the undertaker's assistant. "Sitting in silence and a half lit house will not revive my dearest husband. It's a concert on holy ground, not a midnight bacchanal" was sufficient to mute all further comments.  
Alastair looked so much younger in his concert garb; the dark suiting emphasise blush of his complexion and the blue with his eyes. He came downstairs, tie slipping through shaking hands. "Father always help me to find the perfect not, but my hands keep slipping tonight."  
Watson was about to jump to his assistance when Holmes approached. "I almost equal you in height – it will be easier for me to assist than Dr Watson. Now, God what a mirror and I will show you want the tricks I learnt at school…"  
Watson watched fondly as Holmes took Alastair through the knack of securing a tie as much by touch as by sight. "Learning to dress in the dark is a skill that every man should acquire, even in these days of ample gas and candles."  
"Thank you, sir ."  
"Oh I am no Sir, unlike my brother.."  
The inference of equality took Alastair by surprise "yes – Si . Sorry, Holmes." He blushed at his mistake. " That will take some adjustment."  
\--  
The walk to the cathedral was a peaceful one in the soft twilight of the September evening. Alastair took his mother's arm, with Holmes and Watson following on at a discreet distance. A crowd was gathering in knots as he great doors were opened and people began to fill the ancient space..  
Alastair kissed his mother’s cheek. “I must join the rest of the choir.”  
“Off you go then, my dear, and let us find our seats.”  
Alastair wavered. “Please don’t feel obliged to stay. There will be other concerts at better times.”  
Eva gave him a pointed look. “As I well know. But there is nowhere that I would wish to be than to be here to listen to your music. Now off you go, before they notice you are late.”  
“Yes, Mama.”” Alastair made to go, only taking his eyes off her when it became too difficult to find her amongst the audience.  
\---  
The choral section of the evening flowed past them,a river of sound. Eva’s eyes never left Alastair throughout. It was clear that the boy came alive whilst surrounded by music. They all knew that it had been the right decision to come here tonight as a means of escaping the darker days that lay ahead.

Holmes was a statue throughout. Only the quicksilver movement of his eyes demonstrated how he followed the conductor as he wove the stream of melodies of the choir and orchestra together. He cast a quick glance at Eva only to find Watson doing precisely the same. Eva’s strength was ebbing away.  
The choral piece concluded, and with it Alastair’s’ involvement in the evening. He came striding over to the pew as soon as the choir had been dismissed, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.  
His energy evaporated as he saw his mother’s struggle to return the smile. “ Let me take you home.”  
“B-but what about the final piece? You so wanted to hear it.”  
Alastair leaned in, suddenly conspiratorial. “ I heard the rehearsal, and it was magnificent. That will do for me.”  
Watson rose, but Alastair stayed him with his hand. “We will be perfectly alright.”  
“If you are quite sure..”  
Entirely,” replied Eva. “Alastair can lend you his latch key. You can tell us all about it tomorrow.”  
Holmes, who had been uncharacteristically silent through the whole exchange, watched them leave before settling back into the pew. “ The sign of a gentleman is to know when to let a lady have her head, however tempting it might be to override their wishes for the sake of surety.”  
“Yes , yes. “ Watson gave off an veneer of faux offence, and took refuge in the programme. "A Fantasia Upon a Theme by Thomas Tallis by Ralph Vaughan Williams,conducted by the composer.“ he read. “Never heard of him. Hope it’s not a dirge.”  
“We shall see.”  
\---  
The audience quietened out of a collective sense of curiosity. Such premieres happened in county cathedrals from time to time, most sinking without trace after an expression of polite appreciation.But even those who were in attendance merely out of social obligation rather than a genuine love of music felt their spirits charge by the reweaving of the thread of an ancient melody woven into something more suited to the burgeoning century.

As the last notes faded, Watson felt tears paint his face. Holmes edged closer until they were as lose as a public space would allow. The blend of old and the new had bewitched him, once more. He was taken by a sudden memory of Caldie not long after they had first met, joyously belting out hymn tunes assigned with the filthiest of lyrics , to the amusement of rugby team after their first win...The sacred and the profane, blended together in someone so full life that it was shared with all who saw its worth. Such was the passion with which he lived, and loved and cherished those such as Watson, Eva and Alastair.  
That love was the greatest legacy that Caldie could have left.  
As they left the cathedral in mutual silence, Watson felt doubly blessed, to have known such a man and to have the wit, strength and comfort of Holmes beside him. A husband in all but name, for now and for the future, whatever it held.


End file.
